


the highest fall you'll ever grace

by crimsonxflowers



Series: there's a hole in my soul (can you fill it?) [3]
Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Alternate Universe - Daemons, Gen, M/M, Pining, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-02
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-11-07 12:30:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,660
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11059023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crimsonxflowers/pseuds/crimsonxflowers
Summary: “You settled,” Atarah says quietly, something a little like awe in her tone, perched on her hind legs to rest her paws on Oriana’s muzzle, and Meyer is just... going to ignore that. Just like he’s going to ignore the way Oriana bumps her nose up under Atarah’s chin, just for a second.Sal looks down at their daemons, apparently not bothered at all by the lack of distance between them and all thetouching, then shrugs in Meyer’s direction, faintly sheepish this time. “‘Least she don’t take up too much room in the flat.”Meyer shakes his head. “No, she’s—”beautiful, he thinks, and Atarah’s head whips around at him, eyes wide and startled for just a second. “She suits you,” he finishes, a little lamely, but Sal grins again, crooked and charming and...fuck.





	the highest fall you'll ever grace

**Author's Note:**

> and now it is time for The Feelings. having a daemon does not make meyer any better at dealing with said feelings.
> 
> list of daemons (names and species) are down in the endnotes, if you want the mental image before you read! i have [a whole tag for this au](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com/tagged/daemon+au) over on my tumblr, as well as a writeup explaining the basics of how daemons work [here](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com/post/127967825056/what-are-uhmdaemons-i-discovered-the-daemon), though fair warning that the overall tag contains daemon spoilers for characters who haven't been introduced/aren't settled at the point that this fic takes place, so caveat lector etc

Meyer hears from Benny who hears from some other kid in the crew who overheard his older sister and her friends gossiping about it and… anyway, apparently Sal’s out of prison a few months early. Meyer doesn’t waste any time scooping Atarah up from where she and Neva are bickering over the day’s take and telling Benny they’ll catch up tomorrow. But if Sal’s back, there’s more than a little business he and Meyer have to talk about. 

They round the corner onto Sal’s block and catch sight of him lounging on his building’s steps with a cigarette between his lips, Oriana a lithe canine shape sprawled out a step down. Atarah gasps, right next to Meyer’s ear and then gone, jumping off his shoulder to run full-tilt down the sidewalk towards them. She’s tiny but she’s fast, and Meyer jogs after her to avoid the pull, until she scampers right up between Oriana’s front paws. Meyer stops short of the front step, and has a second or two to worry  _ what if it’s not the same _ —before Sal’s face splits into a grin at the sight of him.

“Meyer! What, did you run all the way from home?” he says, like he couldn’t see Atarah bolt up the street.

Meyer gives him a look, but Sal just grins wider. “Shut up, I was down the block. Heard you were home.” He shrugs, tries to make it look casual. “Figured I’d come catch up.”

“You settled,” Atarah says quietly, something a little like awe in her tone, perched on her hind legs to rest her paws on Oriana’s muzzle, and Meyer is just... going to ignore that. Just like he’s going to ignore the way Oriana bumps her nose up under Atarah’s chin, just for a second, before Atarah drops back down to all fours.

“Finally caught up t’you, huh,” Oriana says, a grin in her voice, even if she sounds a little grittier than six months ago. 

Sal looks down at their daemons, apparently not bothered at all by the lack of distance between them and all the _touching_ , then shrugs in Meyer’s direction, faintly sheepish this time. “‘Least she don’t take up too much room in the flat.” His voice is flippant, but the way his palm drops to Oriana’s side seems defensive, like they’re bracing for agreement or worse.

Meyer’s brows raise, without him meaning to (really, like  _ he’s _ going to judge daemons on size alone) but he shakes his head a little bit. “No, she’s—”  _ beautiful _ , he thinks, and Atarah’s head whips around at him, eyes wide and startled for just a second. “She suits you,” he finishes, a little lamely, but Sal grins again, crooked and charming and...  _ fuck _ . Atarah inches back into Meyer’s space, picking her way up his clothes til she’s tucked against his shoulder again. She bumps her head against his jaw, just barely, silently consoling.

Meyer clears his throat, feeling awkward, then drops down on the top step. Atarah’s claws clutch at the fabric against his skin for balance. He bumps his shoulder against Sal’s and tries not to be overly pleased when Sal doesn’t move away. “Gimme one of those,” he says, gesturing towards Sal’s cigarette, burned down almost entirely, and Sal snorts something about ungrateful pushy brats under his breath, but fishes another cigarette and a lighter out of his shirt pocket and tosses it in Meyer’s direction.

He takes his time lighting the thing, and Oriana props her chin on Sal’s knee, looking up at Atarah on Meyer’s shoulder, canine teeth bared in an expression uncannily similar to Sal’s grins. “We miss anything big, ‘Tar?” He can feel Atarah’s head shake, but she jumps down to his lap to be on Oriana’s level. Meyer snaps the lighter shut, taking a drag as he hands the metal back to Sal.

“Biggest news on the block’s gonna be you coming back,” he says, picking up the thread and exhaling a stream of smoke to the side. “Ran a few games with Benny while you were gone, but he scares people off too quick to make a profit.”

Sal snorts, undignified, and pockets his lighter. “No shit. Nev still tryin’ ta claw eyes out every other minute?”

Meyer shakes his head. “She’s been sticking to insects lately. No claws to speak of.” She’s usually something with a sting, though, but Sal will find that out sooner or later. “Anyway, the games’ll run smoother now you’re back.” Meyer takes another drag, steeling himself a bit. “How was it?” he asks lightly, pretending like he’s not watching Sal’s face for a reaction, a hint, anything.

Sal shrugs, but Meyer’s watching, and he can see the way his jaw tightens. Oriana’s ears flatten back too, and Atarah shifts on Meyer’s lap, like she wants to be back in Oriana’s space. She knows better, though, and settles back down as Sal says “s’like always. Asshole judge, asshole warden, asshole guards.”

“Asshole punks too,” Oriana grumbles, and Sal strokes a palm down her back, soothing.

“Yeah. Anyway. I’m out, so fuck ‘em,” he says, exhaling a cloud of smoke in a huff. Meyer knows when to back the hell off, so he just nods and does the same. Sal takes another drag, staring off across the street, and it feels… tense, like something else is coming. So Meyer just waits, and pretends Oriana isn’t staring at him as deliberately as Sal isn’t. “Goin’ by Charlie now,” he says, not meeting Meyer’s eyes, and at least Meyer wasn’t wrong about that not being the end of it. Meyer frowns, but before he says anything, Oriana picks her head up and  _ growls _ .

“That gonna be a problem?” she snaps, ears flat against her skull again. Atarah’s on her feet before Meyer can blink, fur bristling up along her spine defensively, but her “hey!” sounds as confused as Meyer feels. Before either of them get any more ideas, Sal’s fingers are buried in the ruff of fur along Oriana’s shoulderblades, a restraint and reassurance all in one.

“S’fine, Oriana, ease off,” he says, quiet but firm, and he finally looks at Meyer. “It’s fine, right?”

It’s obviously  _ not  _ fine, if Meyer says no, but... all things considered it’s not that big of a deal. Meyer’s not gonna pretend he’s not curious, but Sal wants to be Charlie, he can be Charlie, as long as he’s back. Maybe it came with the settling. So Meyer shrugs, takes a drag, says, “it’s fine. It’s your name.” He glances down at Atarah, who squints up at him, but leaves it alone for now. They can talk about it later if they have to.

“Lock-up clearly didn’t teach you any manners,” Atarah grumbles as she settles back down, flopping across Meyer’s thighs with a huff and rolling her eyes to soften the bite behind her words.

“Would you even recognize us if we came back tame?” Oriana asks playfully, ears perked back up and tense moment seemingly forgotten as she leans over to nudge Atarah’s head with her snout. Atarah snorts and bats her face away with a paw, claws as tucked away as they get, and just like that the moment really  _ has  _ passed. Meyer rolls his eyes at the two of them and leans back on his hand, finishing off the last drag of his cigarette before flicking it into the street.

“Out early, even,” he murmurs, quiet enough that Charlie could miss it, if he wanted. Instead he tilts his head to the side and grins at Meyer again—and Atarah flexes her pinpoint claws so they dig into the inside of Meyer’s thigh at the same time as his throat tightens, god _ dammit _ . Meyer clears his throat and glances over his shoulder, before turning back to Charlie. “So, listen, I don’t know if you want to talk about it here, but that Leary kid ran his mouth while you were gone.”

That wipes the grin off Charlie’s face, and he crushes his cigarette against the stair with somewhat more violence than necessary. “Yeah, I heard,” he growls, smearing the tobacco against the concrete like an insect under his thumb. “Someone oughta teach him to keep his fat trap shut once in a while.”

Meyer hums, brushing Atarah’s fur back into place almost absentmindedly. “Y’know, me and Benny thought the same thing.” He feels more than hears the noise Atarah makes, a satisfied little snarl in her chest. From the answering noise Oriana makes, and the way Charlie bumps his shoulder into Meyer’s, he’d say it’s a safe bet they’re on board as well.

* * *

Later, when they’re at home in bed, when they’re sure Jake and Iriliya are asleep, Atarah stretches out from where she’s balled up on Meyer’s pillow, close enough that it’s not hard to keep her voice quiet. “What’s going on with his name, do you think?”

Meyer shakes his head, moving as little as possible to avoid waking anyone up. “I’m not sure. But it could be a worse name, I guess.”

“Does ‘Charlie’ suit him? Like Oriana does?” she snipes, and he presses his lips together, not quite a wince but close. When he stays silent, Atarah sighs, the sound frustrated and louder than it should be, and the only consolation is Meyer can tell it’s not just directed at him.

It’s not long before she wriggles down off his pillow, movements slow and deliberate this late at night. She curls up against Meyer’s chest and whispers, “we can’t tell them. They can’t find out.” She sounds defeated, resigned, and Meyer lets himself be weak, just this once, and buries his face in her fur.

“I know.”

She’s silent for a few minutes. Then, like it’s being ripped out of her, “I want to.”

Meyer thinks about Atarah’s paws on Oriana’s muzzle, about the crooked grin Charlie shot him over and over just a few hours ago, and holds Atarah that much tighter. “I know.”

**Author's Note:**

> for reference:  
> meyer's daemon, atarah, is a [beech marten](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Beech_marten)  
> charlie's daemon, oriana, is a [black-backed jackal](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Black-backed_jackal)
> 
> i live for comments, or come talk to me about baby gangsters on [tumblr](http://meyerlansky.tumblr.com)!


End file.
